


The Heat Talking

by WolffyLuna



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha!Reinhardt Wilhelm, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breeding, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega!Jack Morrison, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7501887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolffyLuna/pseuds/WolffyLuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: "during a mission together, reinhardt and jack have paired up to investigate an old overwatch base they remember. either way: jack has been poorly supplied while running as a vigilante, and hasn't had an opportunity to take advantage of recalled overwatch's stores. including their stores of heat suppressant and birth control.</p><p>predictably, getting stuck in close quarters with alpha reinhardt drives jack into the messiest, most desperate heat of his life. and predictably, as an old experienced alpha, reinhardt offers to help him through.</p><p>ending up with jack in reinhardt's lap, absolutely helpless on reinhardt's (massive) knot, both of them knowing that with the amount of seed reinhardt's putting in jack's belly the chance is slim to none that jack isn't going to end up pregnant. the thought of which both of them really get off on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heat Talking

The last six years hadn’t been kind to the building. It loomed out of the darkness, ivy and wisteria climbing into windows and pulling walls apart. The weather had brushed away most of the old Overwatch symbol, leaving a lighter shadow on the wall. Reinhardt and Jack padded, as much as Reinhardt could ‘pad’ in his armour, through the long grass and sheeps’ saviour. The chain link and barbed wire fence split in multiple places, but there was no sign of trespassing. Apart from them, of course. They were very much trespassing.

Jack felt overheated, a cross between fever-heat and the flush of exertion.

“Just like old times,” Reinhardt said.

Jack looked up at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Running off on our own, doing something inadvisable-- like back in the old, old days.”

Jack huffed. “Let’s just hope what Winston is looking for is here.” The too-hot feeling reminded him of _something,_ but his memory refused to play ball and be specific about what that something was.

The air smelled cold and wet, the grass smelling like steamed vegetables and honey. He paused. That wasn’t something he normally noticed. Heightened sense of smell fit a pattern with the heat, but again his memory wasn’t playing fair, so all he was left with was deja vu. The discomfort and bemusement were distracting, and certainly not helping him work out what was going on.

They reached the door, and Reinhardt knocked it off it’s hinges with his hammer.

“Was that necessary?”

Reinhardt shrugged, and squeezed through the door. “It worked.”

As Jack walked through, there was an unmistakable slip-slide as the tops of his thighs brushed. Slick. _Oh, so thats what this is._ In his defence, he hadn’t had a heat in literal years. Didn’t think he was ever going to get another one. After what happened at the Swiss base, and his last dose of suppressants wore off, he hadn’t had another. He’d assumed he was too old, or the stress finally got to him, and he wasn’t going to have any more.

Apparently not. 

He veered off to the right, bounced into a wall, and smacked into another one.

This one was going to be a _doozy._ He’d gone straight from ‘flushed’ to ‘unable to walk straight’ in what? Two minutes? This must have been some sort of bodily payback for the last six years of hell, or something. He walked more carefully, imagining the line under his feet, and trying to not to wobble or sway off it.

And now the horny fog was descending. _Nice._ His erection strained in his pants, and there was a considerable temptation to shed his clothes and jump on Reinhardt. (Not that was entirely because of his heat.)

Reinhardt stopped. “Jack,” he said, more soft and quiet than usual. “Do you need help?”

He leaned on Reinhardt, his legs wobbling. This heat was hitting _absurdly_ fast. “Yes.”

Reinhardt growled. Actually growled, like full on, stereotypical-alpha, guttural throat noises. Jack hadn’t understood the appeal. Until now. He nearly slipped over when he heard it. (This was partially just the heat talking. But. Not entirely.) Reinhardt scooped him up in a bridal carry, and kept walking.

There’d been rumours, in the old days. When Overwatch was at it’s largest. Reinhardt had been pretty free wheeling with ‘helping’ omegas, and the omega grapevine spread news fast. Jack hadn’t paid much attention. Now? He wondered if some of it was partially true. 

Jack nuzzled Reinhardt’s chest. It didn’t really work, because several centimetres of plate metal were in the way, but at least the thought counted. Reinhardt chuckled. The heat flush had progressed to burning and sweating like a pig in an oven. His arousal had amped up, spreading from his stomach and groin right through him, to the tips of his fingers and toes. Everything felt tight and pulled together, and it _stung_ in a way hard to describe.

Reinhardt shifted his grip, so he held Jack one handed, and pet Jack’s hair with his free hand. Jack leaned into it. “Thanks.”

“I’ll make you feel so good, just you wait.”

Slick soaked through his trousers, down to mid-thigh. Every part of him felt tense, except his hole, which was helpful (the rumours were very insistent about Reinhardt’s size), but an odd feeling juxtaposition.

He’d buck, just to get some sort of relief, except there was only air. Also, he might have fallen out of Reinhardt’s arms. His arms were occupied trying to supplement what sense of balance he had left.

He was stuck with pitiful whimpering.

They reached what must have been an old common room. An old TV stand stood at one end of the room, littered with old holo cases but no TV. A kitchenette ran along the other side, with suspicious smelling tea-and-coffee making facilities. In centre of the room, a couch. A massive couch. A little threadbare, sure, but perfectly serviceable. And more importantly, a size that could fit both him and Reinhardt

He jumped out of Reinhardt’s arms, and shed his jacket. Reinhardt removed his armour from the feet upwards.

It took them a few minutes to strip off. Reinhardt was covered head to toe in interlocking steel plate, and Jack-- His nerves rung like a bell, with hot sharp pleasure-pain that made his hands shake and him wish for someone to stick something, anything, up his arse. It wasn’t exactly conducive to removing clothing. “Please, Reinhardt, please please--” He didn’t mean to say that, it just flowed out of his mouth, and he hadn’t the control to stop it.

Reinhardt laughed. “I haven’t even touched you, and you’re already singing for me.”

He dragged Jack over to the couch, and pulled him into his lap. Jack managed to say something resembling “Thank you.” Reinhardt’s cock poked his thing. It was smaller than what the rumours implied. It fit Reinhardt, was proportional. He _was_ nearly seven foot, so that was large, but the rumours made it sound baguette sized.

It looked the perfect size.

Reinhardt swirled his fingers in the slick on Jack’s thighs. Jack bucked and gripped onto his shoulders. It was better than nothing, much better, but it didn’t take the heat edge off, left him hungry for more.

The fingers wandered upwards. Prep was probably agood idea _,_ but the heat had left him open and desperate, and he was not waiting. And Reinhardt’s dick was not a baguette, he could take it now.

He took one hand of Reinhardt’s shoulders, lined him and Reinhardt up, and sunk down.

If he ever had to describe a heat, he’d describe it like this. Reinhardt’s cock _hurt,_ but it was heat pleasure-pain. Like stepping into a burning hot shower after long day. His nerves went from taut and pained to relaxed. All his focus tunneled down, to the stretch and the ache and the joy. It was relief from tension of a heat.

It just plain old felt good.

He bit down on Reinhardt’s shoulder, to avoid screaming, because if he screamed Reinhardt might think he hurt and would stop and _no._

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Reinhardt said.

Jack pulled away. Red, divoted, teeth marks sat in a ring. “I’m good.”

“Then I’m going to make you feel even better.” He thrust shallowly, more angle adjustments than anything. But that was all he needed to do. It drew a ridiculous noise from Jack, followed shortly by a “Fuck yes--”

Reinhardt grinned.

The heat-edge melted away into mere arousal. Jack slid up and down, trying to make it feel good for Reinhardt as well. Reinhardt groaned, and kissed along Jack’s neck.

Jack’s arousal amped quickly, skittering past the plateau, almost immediately to orgasm. It wasn’t fireworks, but it felt ecstatic. “Fuck. Thanks.” Reinhardt lasted only a few more thrusts before his knot swelled.

And Jesus Christ was that thing ridiculous. The rumours may have overstated the size of Reinhardt’s cock, but they were perfectly accurate about the size of his knot. It was absurd. And brilliant.

Jack grinded against it, reveling in the fullness and pressure.

They mostly still for a few minutes, breathless and sated. “I know this is the wrong time to ask,” Reinhardt said, “But are you on anything?”

Jack paused. “No.” He’d stopped taking birth control once he’d stopped having heats. He didn’t see the need, it wasn’t like he could get pregnant without going into heat. “I’m gonna have your babies.” No ifs or buts, he remembered enough from health class to know he was at peak fertility now.

He shivered, and ground harder, because wasn’t that the hottest thing he’d ever heard? It was probably the heat talking, but my god was it great thought to entertain-- Having Reinhardt’s babies. Having Reinhardt’s and _his_ babies.

Reinhardt’s knot swelled more, and Reinhardt bucked helplessly. “They’ll be big and strong.”

“Not too big I hope.”

Reinhardt laughed, and booped Jack on the nose. “They’ll be too cute though.”

“You act like that’ll be just my genes.”


End file.
